…And it is okay, because I am human. I process the hell out of the past so I can avoid pain and suffering in my bright future.
I came across an article with the title “Marry someone that will help you to the bathroom”. [You can read it here: http://wapo.st/29kKzxi ] Instantly I was flooded of the memory of the first 5 days my daughter was born and how alone I felt. The staff in the hospital comforted me more than my ex-husband. The loneliness was so palatable. The night before she was born, I spent hours locked in the bathroom crying for my dead mother, crying for my unborn child and very emotionally distraught.
I remember being numb emotionally and then after the epidural… Just being 80% numb all over. Holding my sweet baby was the greatest feeling. She is a big huge glowing tsunami of #BlackGirlMagic. I held her. He held her. He didn’t hug me. He didn’t smile at me. He didn’t kiss me. He came and sat on the visitor’s sofa, told me he couldn’t stay the night because he was tired and he was going home.
I stayed awake 72hrs – OUT OF FEAR AND BEFUDDLEMENT. I WAS SCARED AND I NEED LOVE AND SUPPORT, BUT I WAS ALONE. I WAS ALONE WITH MY BABY.
The first three days of her life. I did not sleep. The 2008 Olympics were on and I watched all of it. 3 days. I was so petrified and scared of being a new parent that my body went into “flight or fight” mode. On day 3, the doctor came to me and noticed I had taken no pain meds. I was up for 3 days, no pain meds, I hadn’t used the bathroom, I was awake but still she noticed something was wrong.
Please do NOT send me home. Please. I am not ready to go. I will move around I promise. Just let me stay 2 more days.
She leaned over and said to me “I know you have a husband, but I can see you are alone. He is not going to help you. We will check your insurance to see if you can stay.”
I remember tears welled up in my eyes and I smiled. I was so relieved. My neighbors came to visit and that was a source of comfort. He talked to them incessantly, but he didn’t talk to me. Not once did he ask me how I felt. He didn’t ask me much unless it was about the baby. I was texting my cousin back in Chicago. He wouldn’t let my family come down and help me. The day arrived for me to come home and the library was filled with pink balloons for our baby. It was gorgeous. That day I took a nap in the guest room with the baby. It was still daylight and I remember I asked him not to leave me alone. I asked him to please check on me. I never told him that my stitches from my C-section felt funny or that I was scared. I just assumed that he cared enough to check on me, because I just got home and had his baby.
The sky got darker.
He never checked on me.
The neighbors called and they sat him by the back door. Embarrassed, I pulled him into the kitchen.
Pop. I felt my stitch pop.
Hunched over, I walked back to the bedroom and I whimpered like a hurt dog. I cried. I cried. I held my baby close and I just cried.
I was furious. I was hurt. I was alone. I was not cared for. I felt humiliated. I felt rejected.
I simply felt “sad mad”.
… And our marriage was already crumbling 3 mos into my pregnancy, the next 3 years would prove to be the most soul crushing years of our lives.
I simply felt “sad mad”.